Fever
by firecracker189
Summary: Dean comes back after a hunt to find a very ill Sam. Doting!Dean Sick! Needy!Sam
1. Chapter 1

Dean pulled into the parking lot at 3AM, exhausted. It hadn't been easy, but he'd forced a slightly under the weather Sam to stay behind as he finished the werewolf hunt. Pulling his duffel from the trunk, he made his way to the room he'd dropped Sam in. He searched his pockets, cursing at the absence of room key.

"Sammy! Open up bro!" Dean pounded the door. What was taking the kid so long anyway? He was usually a very light sleeper. Sighing, Dean pulled a credit card from his pocket, jiggling the door lock until it popped open.

Crossing the threshold, Dean dropped his bag, breathing in the stench of crappy motel. "It's good to be home."

"Deannn…." Came the weak moan from the opposite bed.

"Sam?" Kicking the door shut, Dean crossed to the opposite bed, flicking on the lamp.

Sam lay across the bed, crumpled tissues surrounding him, scarlet fever spots highlighting his cheekbones, glassy eyes trained on his big brother, bearing an expression of utter trust.

Letting out a low whistle, Dean knelt beside him, carefully placing the back of a hand to his flaming forehead.

"You're burning up, bro. I bet you're feelin' crappy. Hang tight Sammy." Rooting in his duffel, Dean quickly pulled out the Tylenol, uncapping a water bottle. Moving to the head of the bed, he sat down next to him, gently helping his little brother sip the water.

"There we go. Let those meds get on board, your temp should go down in a few."

He sniffed, nodding, eyes glazed over by fever, sweaty face flushed.

Dean moved to Sam's head, propping it up with another pillow, and tucking the blankets firmer around him. "Now open."

Shoving the thermometer under his tongue, Dean sat back, toeing off his muddy boots. Glancing at the readout, Dean flinched, groaning.

"101.4. Dang it Sammy, you don't get sick half-way do you?"

Sam stared balefully up at him, sweat shining on his forehead.

Dean peered closer, pulling the collar of Sam's t-shirt away from his sweaty neck. A complex network of fine, lacy, rash extended from just under his collar to his chest, arms, and to Dean's horror, legs.

Cursing, Dean stripped back the covers, leaving only the sheet covering his brother.

"Dean!" Sam shot up suddenly, both hands clamped across his mouth, face a sudden shade of green beneath the scarlet of the rash.

Moving quickly, Dean propped Sam up, snagging the trashcan from beside the bed, just in time for Sam to retch violently into it.

" 'S alright Sammy. Just let it out bro. That's it." Dean rubbed soothing circles on his brother's back with his free hand.

Whimpering, Sam lolled limply against Dean's chest.

"Okay. You're fine. There we go." Carefully setting the can beside the bed, Dean lowered Sam to the mattress, retrieving a washcloth from the bathroom and running it beneath the cool tap.

"It's all right Sammy. Let's get you cleaned up."

Moaning, Sam turned his head away from his brother's ministrations.

"Sammy, let me wash your face." Dean swiped quickly at Sam's mouth and forehead, carrying the vomit filled bin into the bathroom and setting it in the tub.

Striding back into the bedroom, Dean slid off his dirty over-shirt, laying it over the back of a chair, and retrieved the stash of instant cool packs from the med kit.

He carefully lay one across Sam's forehead, hoping to knock a couple of degrees off his temperature. Sam whimpered in relief, welcoming the cool touch against his fevered skin.

"Shh, Sammy, it's okay." Dean reassured.

"Dean…"

"That's right Sammy. I'm here." Dean covered the lamp nearest Sam with a towel, knowing dim light was best on fevered eyes.

"Dean…" Sam tried again, reaching weakly for his brother. " Th' hunt…"

"Went fine Sammy. Ganked the darn thing, came back here, found you sicker than a dog." Dean teased gently, brushing Sam's hair out of his eyes.

" S' good…" He trailed off, snoring lightly, Dean's shirt fisted in his hand.

Sighing, Dean shook his head. Looks like rest wasn't in the cards for him after all. He was going to spend the majority of the next few days playing nurse to a sick brother.

Leaning back against the headboard, Dean closed his eyes, hoping to snag a few minutes of rest before Sam woke up again.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sammy._

**_No. Go away. I'm sleeping, and I don't feel good._**

_Sammy, wake up sweetheart._

A feather light touch ghosted across his temple, brushing back his wayward bangs, continuing its journey down to rest against his cheek, cupping it gently. He leaned subconsciously into the touch, soaking in the comfort.

_Open your eyes darling. _

**_Mom?_**

Sam sat up, knuckling sleepy eyes, and came face to face with his mother. Breath hitching in his chest, the bewildered boy tracked her every move with his gaze as she came to rest beside him on the bed.

_That's right baby. _Mary Winchester smiled.

**_Wha—_** he swallowed, pushing back the storm of emotion threatening to choke him **_– what are you doing here?_**

_I'm here because you want me to be. _

She slipped beneath the covers, pulling her son against her. Sam leaned into her, melting into her embrace, head resting contentedly on her shoulder.

**_So… this is all a dream? _**He asked, face falling.

_I'm afraid so. _

Mary replied softly, stroking her baby boy's hair. Sam sniffled, tears pooling in his eyes, and she pulled him closer, shushing him.

_It's okay love. Mother's here, it's okay._

Mary hummed Hey Jude calmly under her breath -a tune that had always calmed Dean as a child—rocking her youngest to and fro. Sam clung to his mother, relishing the comfort of her touch, and let the tears flow.

_Oh, Sammy. _She whispered into her son's hair. _I never meant for it to be this way. I'm so sorry my darling. _

**_I… I love you Mom. _** Sam forced between sobs.

Smiling, Mary pulled back, wiping the tears from Sam's face. _I love you too Sammy. _

Sam smiled back, gazing contentedly at his mother's beautiful face.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light, and Mary Winchester was nowhere in sight.

Panicked, Sam looked around the room. **Mom! Mom, where are you? **

Then he felt it. Searing heat, a yellow light cast from the ceiling, stench of burning flesh filling his nostrils.

Terrified, Sam fell to his knees, backing into the corner between the wall and the bed.

**No. No. NONONONONONONONONOOOO!**

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! MOM, NO! Please!

Dean shot up, cracking his head sharply on the headboard. Eyes streaming, Dean moved to restrain his flailing brother.

"Sam! Sam. Sammy! It's alright Sammy, it was only a dream. There we go Sam, that's it. Sit up."

"Dean!" Sam shot upright, wrapping his arms tightly around his brother, shaking like a leaf.

"It's okay Sammy, it was only a dream. It wasn't real okay?" Dean soothed, rubbing soothing circles on his little brother's back, flinching at the bout of violent sobbing his words incited. "It's alright Sammy. 'S okay. I gotcha baby brother, you're gonna be fine. Here," Dean reached for the water bottle, pressing it to Sam's lips. "take some water, that's it. Just calm down… there we go." Using his free hand, Dean eased Sam back down, retrieving a freshly wetted washcloth from the nightstand.

Placing the cloth across Sam's eyes, Dean flicked off the lamp, moving to stand, stopped by Sam's hands fisting themselves in his shirt.

"De, please don't go!" Sam cried, sounding so much like the sick little boy Dean had cared for so many years ago.

"Alright. It's okay Sammy, I'm not gonna leave. I'm just getting under the covers." Dean reassured, slipping beneath the blankets and pulling Sam close.

Sam practically lay on top of Dean, nosing his face into the crook between Dean's neck and shoulder.

"Dean, it was Mom… She was burning just like Jess… She told me she loved me… sang to me juss' like you did… said…" His ramblings were halted momentarily by a large yawn. Dean smiled, carding a hand through Sammy's hair. He was thankful he'd had the foresight to grind up the Tylenol and put it in the water. Kid hadn't been able to keep much but water down. "…said she didn't want it t' be this way… for us…"

Dean continued carding his free hand through Sam's hair, and sure enough, within moments, Sam was out—arms wrapped tightly around his big brother.


	3. Chapter 3

"Deannnnn…."

Sam moaned.

"Sammmmm." Dean mocked, sipping his coffee and striding across the room. "Here." Thrusting the paper bag at Sam, Dean toed off his boots, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Eat."

Sam turned up his nose at the plain bagel, food still seeming gross to him.

"Eat." Dean insisted. "At least half of that has to be gone Sam."

Rolling his eyes, Sam forced down the top half of the bagel, the very act of eating exhausting.

"Check your temperature again."

Sam obediently stuck the thermometer under his tongue, head lolling to rest on Dean's shoulder.

Chuckling fondly, Dean removed the thermometer after the beep, holding it to eye level.

"99.5. Looks like you're almost there Sammy." Pulling back the collar of Sam's shirt, Dean checked the fading rash. "How ya feelin' Sam? Sam?"

Soft snores sounded in the absence of his brother's answer. Sam's energy was sapped from sitting up for half an hour.

Dean eased Sam onto his back, tucking the covers around him, and had just switched off the light when his own weariness made itself known. He was about to make his way to his own bed, when he realized something: Sam was using his leg as a teddy bear. Which meant he'd wake the kid if he attempted to stand up. Shaking his head at the kid's touchy feely nonsense, Dean threw off his jacket, climbing up beside Sam.

At the familiar presence of his brother beside him, Sam snuggled closer, pillowing his head on Dean's shoulder. Yawning widely, Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair.

Sick little brothers really took it out of you.


End file.
